The Beauty Series Bundle (71 page)

A moment later, it’s over and I’m incredibly relaxed, very much like my body is made of jelly. I’m not sure I could stand if I tried. “I really enjoyed that.”

“Good because I really enjoyed doing it.”

I feel the baby doing what can only be described as acrobatics. “Good grief, that stirred her up. Feel.”

He moves up my body and places his large hands around my bump, completely encasing it in his hold. “Wow. That woke her up for sure.” He smiles as he feels our child performing beneath his hands. “You said her.”

Yeah, I did, but I’m not ready to admit it. “No, I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did.”

He won’t convince me to confess. “If I did, it’s only because that’s all I hear out of you. Her. She. Girl.”

“Because she is a girl.”

“Jack Henry, you don’t know that. It’s a fifty-fifty chance it’s a boy.”

He shakes his head. “I know what I know.”

“Okay. I’m giving in and rolling with you on this. You want to call this baby a girl, we will, but just between us. Don’t do it in front of other people. It’ll confuse them.”

He’s grinning and I’m sure it’s because he thinks he’s convinced me. “Whatever you say, love.”

W
hat a relief
. Laurelyn is finally at a point where I can make her come again. Receiving without giving is a problem for me. I feel beneath inadequate when she doesn’t come—that’s why I typically get her off first—making her one orgasm ahead of me. That’s just how we function, so deterring from our ritual has been unsettling.

My workday is almost complete and I’m ready to go home to my wife. I can’t wait to make her come again. Who knows? I might not even wait until we go to bed. I could find her in the kitchen and lift her to the counter and go down on her. I hope she’s wearing a dress. That always makes things so much easier.

I look at the time and see that Mrs. Porcelli has left for the day. Good thing. The little fantasy in my head has made me rock hard. I think I’ll go home and turn it into a reality.

I come into the kitchen but Laurelyn isn’t there. I call out for her.

“In here.”

Her voice sounds like it’s coming from the living room so my fantasy immediately changes course. I’ll pull her up from the couch and bend her over the arm and go down on her from behind. I’ve never done it like that before.

I walk into the living room, primed and ready to give L a surprise orgasm, and see the look on her face. Something is wrong. “What is it, babe?”

“I spoke with Grayson Drake this morning.” Oh shit. “He says Blake was scheduled to go to trial last month but charges were dropped because you told him we weren’t coming to testify.”

I could be in trouble here. “He called you a couple of months ago while you were in the hospital. You’d just gone back for surgery.”

“You didn’t tell me.”

“You were in a fragile state. Our baby’s life was hanging in limbo and I was afraid telling you might tip the scale in the wrong direction. I wasn’t keeping it from you—only postponing until our baby was out of danger—but then the right time never presented itself. It was easier to not address it than it was to mess everything up once our lives were back to some semblance of order.” She’s staring at me, unmoving. “I didn’t want to upset you.”

“Well, I’m beyond upset about it now.” She’s looking at me in what I think is disbelief, like maybe she feels I’ve betrayed her. “He knocked me around and then shoved his fingers inside me before he ripped my panties off.” I didn’t know the fucker got his hand inside her. She’s never told me that before. “He had every intention of raping me and he’d have been successful if you hadn’t come in when you did.”

It’s a sickening feeling in the pit of my stomach.

I didn’t give in without trying. “I questioned him about postponing the trial until your condition permitted you to come and he told me that Blake had the right to a speedy trial and it couldn’t be postponed longer than a couple of weeks. I suggested closed-circuit video for our testimony and he basically dismissed the idea, saying the judge wouldn’t allow it.”

“How is it possible for him to get away with doing that to me?”

She needs to know I’m not letting this go. “He’s not. I have someone on it.”

“What does that mean?”

I knew she’d want details and that’s why I haven’t told her what I’m doing. “I won’t go into particulars because I don’t want you involved. I won’t allow you to be tainted by anything that might happen.”

“Should I be scared about what you’re doing?”

“I have to ask something of you. I hope it’s a one-time request.” I see the confusion on her face. “Sometimes knowing the truth isn’t what’s best for you—and this is one of those times—so I need a no questions asked from you.”

“A what?”

“A no questions asked. It’s an understanding between two people when one agrees to go along with the other and not ask for explanations or details.”

She’s pissed. “This isn’t the equivalent of you calling for a change of underwear because you were plastered and pissed yourself at a frat party.” She covers her mouth and then removes it. “You’re doing this so I can’t be implicated in something.”

She’s reading too much into this. “We’re done talking about it.”

“What are you planning?”

I laugh because I can see she’s going to continue to ask questions. “You clearly don’t understand the gist behind no questions asked.”

“This isn’t funny.”

“You’re absolutely right. There’s not one damn thing that’s funny about Blake getting away with what he did to my wife, and that’s why I’m going to rectify the situation.” I’ve said more than I meant to so I change the subject because I’m not discussing it further. “What’s for dinner?”

She looks at me, as if in disbelief, before finally answering, “Chicken parmigiana over linguine.”

“Perfect. I haven’t had a good chicken parma in ages.”

I go into the cellar to choose a wine for dinner and linger because I need a minute away from her to get my head straight. She probably thinks I’m going to do something terrible. Truth is, I don’t have a plan yet. Jim has uncovered some terrible things about Blake and I’m not sure what I plan to do with the information.

I want to kill him. My innate response as L’s husband is to protect her and avenge any wrong against her, but the law doesn’t see it that way. The American justice system makes it very easy for people like Blake to get away with terrible things so they may go on to do it again, which seems to be a pattern for him. L isn’t the first woman he’s attacked; she’s just the first to come forward.

L has plated our dinner and is sitting at the table, her hands resting in her lap, waiting for me to join her. I open the wine and pour a generous glassful before I sit in my usual place. I take a big drink as she pushes her pasta around on her plate.

She’s upset with me, maybe even fearful about what I’m going to do, but I don’t want this ruining our evening. I make an attempt at normal conversation—something that might bring a smile to her face. “Will you tell me the names you’re thinking about for the baby?”

“Really? You’re going to bring up baby names after the conversation we just had?”

We’re not discussing Blake Phillips any further. “I like James.”

She sighs and doesn’t answer but after a moment she takes the bait. I knew she couldn’t resist the baby-name talk. “I thought you were convinced it was a girl.”

“I am but I really think I like James for my girl. Thoughts?”

“I don’t know. I gotta think about that one since it wasn’t on my radar at all.”

I’m not sure she likes it. “What is on your radar?”

“I’ve been kicking around Maggie, short for Margaret.”

I’m surprised. “You’d want to name our daughter after my mum?”

“Yeah. I love Margaret and it would be an honor for our daughter to be named after such a strong, loving woman.”

“What about Maggie James?” Hmm … it sounds like a southern Yank name. I love it.

She looks at me and smiles, a sign she may be forgetting our earlier strife. “Maggie James McLachlan.” She says it aloud, testing it on her own tongue. “I think I love it, but I want to use it as a double name. Not just Maggie or just James.”

Just like that? We go with the first name we discuss? I thought there would be more debate to it than that. “I’m fine with that.”

“You’ll call her MJ, won’t you?”

“My girls, L and MJ … yeah, I probably will. What about the boy name you’ve been wasting your time thinking about?”

“I want Henry in it—for obvious reasons—but now you have me thinking James Henry. What do you think?”

“That it doesn’t matter because we’re having a little girl and her name is Maggie James.”

L
is tossing
and turning in the bed, almost constantly. I don’t know if it’s because of discomfort or if she’s thinking of our no questions asked discussion. If it’s the latter, I don’t want her affected like this because it’s not good for her or the baby.

Her back is to me so I scoot close behind her and put my arms around her stomach. “You’re restless, love. What’s wrong?”

“You know what’s wrong.”

I was afraid she would say that. “What can I do to put you at ease?”

“Tell me you aren’t going to do something crazy.”

“I’m not going to do anything crazy.”

She rolls over so we’re facing one another. “Are you saying that because it’s what I want to hear?”

“No.” Maybe. I’m not sure yet.

“We have a baby on the way and I can’t afford to lose you because you’re looking to settle a score with Blake. Yes, he attacked me and deserves to be punished for that, but not at the expense of me losing my husband because you took matters into your own hands.”

I don’t think it’s possible to make her understand the way I feel. “I’m your husband. Your safety falls on my shoulders and I didn’t protect you from him, so I have this intense need inside me to make him sorry for what he did to you.”

“I want him to be punished too, but I’m the one who will suffer if you break the law and get caught.”

That isn’t going to happen. “I’m not going to get into any kind of trouble.”

“Swear to me.”

“I swear.” I want to get her mind off this. “Please try to get some rest. Tomorrow is going to be a busy day for you. What time do you have to be at the rehearsal?”

“Six.”

I should bring up tomorrow night. “You aren’t taking Addison out on the town for her last night as an unattached woman?”

“I think that kid bouncing around in her belly is considered an attachment, but what would two pregnant women do in Wagga? We can’t drink, smoke, or have random sex, so what’s the point?”

Damn right she can’t do any of those things—with one exception. “I can provide you with one of those three things—some form of random sex, here, tomorrow night. The kitchen table, the bathroom counter, maybe the arm of the couch. What do you think?”

“Eh, if nothing else comes up, you can pencil me in.” That’s my girl.

I
can hear
a voice but can’t make out who it is or what it’s saying as I struggle to abandon the dream. I feel someone shaking my shoulder and I become more alert to my surroundings. “Wake up.”

“Hmm?” I groan.

“I’ve got to go to the hospital.”

My heart takes off like a helicopter as I shoot up in bed. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong with me. Addison’s in labor.”

I roll over and look at the clock and see it’s two in the morning. “They just got married—like eight hours ago.”

“The baby doesn’t care how long they’ve been married because he’s coming.”

“Ugh!” I groan as I sit up and turn to put my feet on the floor. “I’ll get up and drive you.”

“I can drive myself. Besides, this could take a while.”

No way I’m letting my pregnant wife go out by her herself at two in the morning. “Sorry. Not happening.”

She scoots over to put her arms around me and places a kiss between my shoulder blades. “Thank you, my sweet, darling husband.”

“You can properly thank me later.”

She squeezes me. “Horn dog.”

“You’ve got that right, babe.”

I
’m
nervous on the drive to the hospital and it’s not even me in labor. “I can’t believe Addison will be pushing another human being out of her body today.”

“I can’t believe they were married only eight hours ago and now she’s in the hospital having a baby. I guarantee he fucked her into labor.” Leave it to Jack Henry to say something like that.

“If he performed anything like you did on our wedding night, then I can believe it.”

“I’m telling you, L, it doesn’t matter how many times you’ve been together before your wedding night, having your wife for the first time is different.” He squeezes my hand. “And having your pregnant wife for the first time is even better.”

I know how it was different for me but I’d like to hear his take. “What was different about it?”

“There’s a surge of testosterone when the human male takes a mate and then that combines with a man’s intrinsic drive to procreate.”

“I’m calling bullshit.”

“You’re right,” he says, laughing. “I totally made that up.”

“You were scared as hell the first time we were together after we knew I was pregnant.” I had to get on top because he would hardly move.

“True, but doesn’t mean I didn’t enjoy the hell out of it.”

As if. “Name a time you didn’t enjoy the hell out of it.”

“Right.”

We pull into the parking lot and Jack Henry lets me out at the front entrance. “Do you want me to wait for you in the lobby?”

“No, you go on up. I’ll be hanging out in the waiting room if you need me.” I’m not worried about him finding his way. He’s very familiar with this place after our scare a few months back.

I go through the waiting room outside labor and delivery on the way to Addison’s room. Her family is here. Even if she’s delivering early, the timing couldn’t be better since her family is here for the wedding—unless she has complications because the baby is early. I hadn’t considered that until now.

All of Addison and Zac’s family is here, including Ben. Great. Jack Henry sitting in the waiting room with him won’t go over well, but at least Chloe’s here to defuse her brother.

“Where’s Jack?” Chloe asks. “He better not have stayed at home while you drove yourself here in the middle of the night.”

“He’s parking the car. He’ll be right up.” I make small talk until he arrives because I feel like he’s been forced to tolerate Ben a lot lately and his patience could be coming to an end.

He walks in and I detect frustration on his face when he sees Ben. I can’t tell him what I’d like, so I mouth for him to please be nice before I leave the waiting room. He draws his imaginary halo over his head. “Thank you,” I mouth. That’s one less thing for me to worry about.

I walk into Addison’s room and she’s sitting straight up in the bed, her legs frogged out, applying makeup. Good grief. That’s not at all what I pictured. I thought she’d be bucking and screaming for sure. “Why are you putting on makeup and not acting a fool?”

She stops and looks up from her mirror. “I want to look good for the pictures.”

What the hell? “I thought you were in labor.”

“My water broke but I’m not having contractions yet.”

This doesn’t sound right. “Don’t you need to have contractions to birth a baby?”

“Apparently so since I’m not dilated, but they’re about to start a drip that will stimulate contractions.”

The drip is one of the topics I read about on a childbirth forum I follow and everyone said it makes the contractions much harder. I bet Addison has no idea what’s about to happen to her. She’s not a researcher like I am. “Maybe you should be practicing how you’re going to breathe if you’re about to be given a pitocin drip.”

“I’ve got this, Laurie.”

Ninety minutes into the pitocin drip and Addison so obviously does not have this. She’s writhing in the bed so hard, she has a huge rat’s nest in the back of her hair. “Omigod, this is the worst thing I’ve ever done in my life. I didn’t think it was going to hurt this bad. It’s awful, Laurie. Terrible.”

I don’t know what to say except to remind her of the things I’m learning in my birthing class. “Breathe in slow, deep breaths.”

Zac is sitting in a chair at the bedside watching the fetal monitor. “Here comes another one.”

“Shut the fuck up, Zac!” She beats her hands on the mattress. “You think I don’t know when another one’s coming? I’m the one feeling this shit!”

I make my best attempt at giving Zac a look of encouragement, although I’m not really sure what that looks like right now. One thing I do know? Your water breaking before you’re in labor—turns out that’s not what you want to happen. It often takes longer to get into active labor—four centimeters—which means you have to hurt longer before you can get an epidural. Addison was one centimeter on her last exam. This is going to take a while.

I pray this doesn’t happen to me.

“I’ve got to have something for pain. Call my nurse and tell her.”

Amy, Addison’s nurse, is a sweet, young woman with a high ponytail. She radiates happiness, which is great, but I want to warn her that her smiles aren’t flying with her patient right now. Addison’s being downright bitchy. “It’s time to check you, Mrs. Kingston.”

Amy lowers the head of the bed to do her exam and her hand disappears under the bed linens. Addison squirms, I’m sure making it harder on her nurse to see how much she’s dilated. “Oh God. Here comes another one.”

“You’re much thinner this time. Will you try to tolerate me checking you with this contraction so I can stretch your cervix?” Amy looks like she’s digging with all her might as Addison writhes. “Hang in there, Addison. Almost … finished.”

“Motherfucker!” She grabs Amy’s wrist and I can tell that she’s squeezing it. “You’ve got to stop.”

Her nurse takes her hand out from under the covers and removes her glove. “Got you to four centimeters. How you feel about getting an epidural?” She returns to the bedside after depositing her bloody glove in the trash and begins lifting the head of the bed.

“Yes!” Addison calls out. “Stat!”

Amy giggles with her childlike grin. “Okay. I’m going to start your IV fluid bolus and I’ll get the anesthetist in here.”

“Thank you, Amy.”

“Oh, you’re welcome. Glad we could get you to that point,” she says before leaving the room.

That’s a lot of change since her last exam. “That’s fantastic—from one to four centimeters. They said you’d only dilate a centimeter an hour once you got going, so maybe things are going to pick up.”

“Thank God. That exam felt like she was ripping me a new one, but I don’t think I’d be getting an epidural if she hadn’t stretched my cervix.”

“That’s good. Means you a have a nurse who knows what she’s doing and can get this done.” I want Amy to take care of me when I come in.

Zac remains in the designated chair where Addison told him to park his ass. “Baby, I’m not sure I can handle seeing them put that long needle in your back. I’m getting a little woozy just thinking about it.”

“Zac Kingston, you are not going to wuss out on me.”

“I don’t want to but it’s not like I can help it. I’m weak when it comes to medical stuff—especially needles. I can’t handle them.”

“Too bad. You’re not going anywhere. You’re staying right here.”

Addison is being rough on Zac. I hope I’m not this way with Jack Henry when the time comes. “I’ll stay in case it becomes too much for you and you have to leave.” I want to tell my best friend she’s being a total bitch to her new husband and he doesn’t deserve it. Zac has been there for her through everything from the moment she told him about the baby, so I’d really like to tell her to cut him some slack. I don’t have the chance, though, as the anesthetist and Amy come into the room.

The man with Amy is wearing blue scrubs—and must be at least sixty since his hair is solid gray—so I’m hoping that’s a sign of experience. “I hear someone in here is looking for an epidural.”

“Yes, honey, bring it on. Where you want me?”

“Sitting—either cross-legged or with your legs dangling. Either is fine. Just make sure both legs are in the same position so your back doesn’t twist.”

Amy positions Addison so she’s holding a pillow around her pregnant abdomen. “Poke your lower back out. The more you curl around the pillow, the more you open those spaces. When you sit up, it closes the space, so try to curl your spine into a C and hold that position until he tells you that you can sit up.”

Addison gets situated and I watch from across the room, mesmerized by what they’re doing to her.

“I don’t feel so good.” I look at Zac—he’s a sick shade of white.

Amy gives me directions from where she stands. “Can you help him to the couch and get his feet up.” Addison is leaning against her nurse for support. “I can’t move from this position.”

I steer him toward the sofa and I’m instantly worried because Zac’s a big guy and I’m a not-so-big girl. “Please don’t pass out on me because I can’t catch you if you go down.” I’m relieved when his ass hits the cushion and he spins to put his legs up on the arm. “What now?”

“Put some pillows under his feet,” Amy answers.

“And then take pictures,” Addison calls out, still remaining in position. Zac doesn’t laugh or argue. He really isn’t feeling well but maybe a tiny little bit of pink is returning to his cheeks.

I go into the bathroom and wet a washcloth for him. “Here. Maybe this will help.”

He takes it and wipes his face. “Thanks. I think I’m gonna be okay now.” He sighs. “I can’t fucking stand needles.”

I look at the black ink on his biceps. “Both of your upper arms are covered in tats.”

“That’s different. Those only tap the surface of the skin. Nothing gets shoved into your spine.”

“They didn’t shove a needle in Addison’s spine.” But it did sort of look like that’s what they were doing.

“I think I can sit up now.” He rises to a sitting position and puts his feet on the floor, staring down so he doesn’t catch a glimpse of Addie or what they’re doing to her. “You all right over there, blondie?”

Addison doesn’t answer and we both spin around to see what’s going on. Amy smiles and points at Addie. “Already asleep.”

Is that normal? “Did the epidural put her to sleep?”

“The epidural didn’t do that. She’s exhausted because she’s been at this for a while, and it’s quite early, so the poor thing is worn out.” And I’m sure she wasn’t in the bed sleeping when all of this got started. I’m guessing Jack Henry almost had the scenario right.

I use Addison’s little nappy time to step out and see Jack Henry since it’s been hours. I’m surprised, or rather shocked, when I find him in a civil conversation with Ben. I think they’re discussing work from the little bit I hear—something about vineyards and the management of them depending upon the location. Chloe sees me before they do and shrugs, giving me a baffled look. I want to eavesdrop, just to see what they’re talking about, but Jack Henry looks over and sees me. “Hey. How’s it going in there?”

“Better now, but it was really bad for a while. She’s four centimeters, got an epidural, and is comfortable. She’s napping.”

“Are you scared now?”

Hell, yeah. I’m terrified. “I was scared before but what I just saw confirms that there’s reason to be and she hasn’t even had the baby yet. It’s going to be rough, McLachlan.”

“You’re tough as nails, L. I have faith in you.”

It takes the better part of the morning for Addison to get to ten centimeters—thirteen hours from the start—but we’re told that’s about average. Next comes the fun part: pushing this child out of her body. He’s thirty-six weeks’ gestation so technically, he’s still considered a preterm infant. Surely, he can’t be too big if he’s almost a month early, right?

“Ten centimeters is my cue to go, Addie.”

“You’re leaving me because you’re a chickenshit and don’t want to see what’s about to happen.”

Probably. “This time belongs to you and Zac.”

I lean down to hug her before I leave. “I’m scared, Laurie.”

“No fear. You’re gonna rock this.”

I join Addie’s family and Jack Henry in the waiting room and we wait for an excruciating ninety minutes before we’re allowed back.

We enter Addie’s room and the most beautiful baby boy in the world rests in her arms. He’s red and wrinkly, and screaming because he’s pissed off—how fitting for Addison’s child. Zac is leaning over kissing Addison’s face, telling her how much he loves her, and I get a glimpse of the happiness Jack Henry and I are going to feel when James Henry or Maggie James arrives. I can not wait.

Addison turns her son around for us to see and Zac announces, “Donavon Zachary Kingston arrived at eleven forty-one, weighing six pounds, two ounces, measuring nineteen inches.”

Yeah. Addison got her way on her son’s name, but I never doubted she would.